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I go back to the fields where it happened sometimes when my fruits ran dry
When rot eats me from the inside and when cages lock me from my own mind —I go back to the place where it last felt good because I haven't felt it in the long horizons ahead
Think of me as a failure or think of me as something as vile —sometimes I go back to the fruits of my labor just to see how far I've gone and how far I've yet to go
